Frozen
by WretchedWriter
Summary: Slash! On Christmas Eve an established rivalry is about to be forever changed. (REPOSTED!)
1. Default Chapter

FROZEN 

**by WretchedScar – WretchedWriter**

**© December 25, 2003**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of its entities belong to J.K. Rowling.  No infringement intended.**

**HP/DM; Rated R because FF.Net saw fit to delete everything else such puritan spirit there, wouldn't you agree?  I wonder what would have happened had authors who challenged what was and wasn't 'socially accepted and discussed' had been successfully edited and even deleted from our literary world in the past (Scary thought)   You will have to forgive me if I missed a naughty cuss word or two – I didn't have a beta to go over the 'prissy' version!  If you would like to read this story in all it's crazy adult glory – please click on my profile and find my URL.  It's posted there.  Or do a google search for A Lifetime of Darkness.  **

**Oh and - HEM HEM – REMEMBER – you must be over 18 years of age to visit my site.  Right then – so here we go – again - . . . and as Draco and Harry saw fit in the story I see fit to do this now - ::Flicks off the censoring system::  Fout toi - Much.  *** * *

            Except for receiving presents, Draco Lucius Malfoy hated the Christmas Holidays.  And the only time he _didn't_ like the presents were when he received something he absolutely, positively did not want or already had.  Okay, so he was picky.  He had money, he was spoiled and he had been given almost everything he had ever wanted.  _Almost_.  

            He was stuck at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the Holidays; it was Christmas Eve night and dinner was going to be served soon.  He wasn't that hungry – in fact he was well aware that he didn't have any appetite at all.  _'Maybe it's because you've already eaten eleven candy canes in the course of twenty minutes?'_ his mind reminded as his tongue swirled around yet another red and white striped piece of candy.

            "Come on Draco," Pansy Parkinson whined, leaning in toward the blonde haired, Slytherin boy she sat by on the black leather sofa in the common room.  "It'll be fun!"

            "Leave him alone, Pansy," Blaise Zabini stated quietly from where he sat reading a book, not once looking up.  "Can't you see he's working on a sugar rush?"

            "You both really have _no_ holiday spirit," Pansy pouted, pushing her bottom lip out and glaring at the two boys she was stuck with at Hogwarts for the Holiday break.

            "What?  I'm sucking on the holidays right here," he pointed to his candy cane.  "And besides you seem to have too much spirit," Draco rolled his eyes and stood up from the sofa, trying to put as much room between him and Pansy as he could.  "I'm not hungry for dinner.  I want more candy."

            "Well I _am_ hungry and I _want_ dinner, damnit," Pansy growled.

            "Are we going then?" Blaise looked hopeful.

            "Fine, have it your way you two," Draco growled and pushed the rest of the candy cane into his mouth crunching down on it, chewing it until it was entirely gone.  "Time for dinner with the mudbloods and losers."

            "Please say you still enjoy my company," Blaise teased.  "If not then I'll just have to say 'up yours, too.'"

            "Sorry Blaise, you're not my type and you _know_ who I meant," Draco accused. 

            "Right – want me to say his name?" Blaise wiggled his eyebrows.

            Draco halted, "Don't you _dare_ start."

            "Awww, but you hate him so much," Blaise continued as they started walking again.

            "I'm beginning to hate _you_ even more," Draco accused.

            "Is that even possible?" Blaise queried.

            They both walked out the door still disputing.

            "And what am I?  Invisible?!" Pansy sighed as she stood up all of a sudden by herself and followed the retreating boys out of the Slytherin Dungeons.  "Boys," she muttered and flung her hair over her shoulder, stalking after her housemates and the chance to wine and dine during the holidays.

* * *

            The Great Hall at Hogwarts was filled with a total of three teachers (Snape, McGonagall and Dumbledore) and a total of nine students , (Harry and Neville from Gryffindor; Blaise, Draco and Pansy from Slytherin; Zachary Morton & Mable Learner from Hufflepuff and Eloise Gluffton and Timothy Cane from Ravenclaw) staying over for the holidays.  Though each represented the different houses that were a part of the school, they all sat at one table sharing their holiday meal together instead of separately.

It was obvious that though the size of students staying was small and the table was one in number, each individual sat and stuck with their relative houses – not intermingling.  The Slytherins sat with the Hufflepuffs on their right and the Ravenclaws on their left and that left the Gryffindors stuck in between across (a safe distance) from the Slytherins.

            "Not much has changed, has it Minerva," Dumbledore said with a chuckle, observing the student table that was located a little ways down from the head, staff table which was raised up a bit at the end of the hall.

            "What are you referring to?" Minerva leaned in, asking quietly.  

            "We have our Slytherins sitting by Slytherins and our Gryffindor by a Gryffindor, and so on and so forth . . ." Dumbledore smiled.  "Note the empty seats in-between each setting as well?"

            "This division is something we see every day and most usually you fail to mention it.  Why tonight are you finally doing so, Albus?" Minerva asked, curious.

            "Just something that struck an old man as funny, Minerva," Dumbledore said quietly.  "It's the holidays; sometimes during the holidays . . ."

            "'Sometimes during the holidays' . . .?" Minerva prodded.

            "Ah," Dumbledore reached across the table.  "I _love_ plum pudding!  Also seemed to have just now remembered eating too much of it as a boy.  Alas, I grew rather plump one year until my mother stopped making it . . ."

            "You've changed the subject," Minerva grumbled but let it go, slapping Albus' hand away from the tempting pudding.

            At the student table, Harry and Neville sat together sharing in quiet conversation.

            "So Gran said that until things got a bit safer," Neville whispered.  "What with, with –"  Neville took a deep breath and went on "-with _you-know-who_, that it'd be safer for me to stay here at Hogwarts with Dumbledore.  My Gran loves Dumbledore."

            "That was rather smart of her," Harry stated in response, chewing on a soft, yeast-roll that had melting butter and honey dripping off of it.

            "What about you, Harry?" Neville prodded.  "You usually spend most holidays, except for the summers, here."

            Harry felt the heat of an embarrassed flush rising up his neck.  It hadn't bothered him before – someone bringing up that he always seemed to be left behind when everyone else had a home to go back to.  Maybe it was because his one last hope . . . Sirius . . was no longer there to take him in like he thought he would be.  

            "Well, I usually live with my Aunt and Uncle during the summers.  But," Harry swallowed, "they usually travel a lot during holidays."  He let the partial lie slip as he poured some more gravy on his mashed potatoes.  "It'd just be too much trouble for me to meet up with them somewhere and then turn and say, 'Gee, I have to go!'" He laughed quietly, feeling a bit ashamed with himself for not trusting Neville with the truth.

            Neville smiled and nodded.  "It's weird don't you think?"

            "What is," Harry asked quietly.

            "That there's only nine of us here this year . . ." the other, plump boy pointed out.  "Not to mention _Malfoy_ is one of those staying!  You'd think his father would have requested him home."

            Harry looked across the table to take in the other boy whom Neville was referring to.  Draco was his same, smart-looking Slytherin self.  Blonde hair swept back in an aristocratic style, gray eyes shining as though they knew something which no one else did, pale skin that looked as if his body contained no life pulse whatsoever.   He wore a form clinging, dark forest green, knit turtleneck with dark gray trousers.  Harry looked at his own jeans and maroon sweatshirt and felt a bit underdressed and out of place after taking in the other boy. 

            "It just means that his father is off doing Voldemort's dirty work for the holidays and he can't entertain his little heir," Harry growled and stabbed his steak with his fork.  He ignored Neville's squeak of terror when he had mentioned the Dark Lord's name.  He was used to everyone else freaking out about it.  Harry himself had long since ceased to care.  "I wish he _had_ gone elsewhere then I wouldn't have to put up with his annoying self during 'the most wonderful time of the year'."

            Ever since Lucius had been released from Azkaban since the summer after their fifth year (charges had been dismissed due to tampering of evidence, the disappearance of certain witnesses and hefty anonymous and timely donations), Draco had become even more and more intolerable and harassing towards Harry.  There were the constant hexes that always hit Harry in the back between classes in the more 'disserted of areas that were unavoidable when one was in a rush to Potions class; there were the smart remarks that had turned rather vicious by making Harry's dead god-father the topic of sneers and jokes along with his deceased parents mentioned here and there to rile Harry's already shattered nerves; and then there was the sabotage to Harry's school work too – that was by far the most embarrassing of them all because not only did Harry suffer but so did his fellow Gryffindors.  

It was at its worst in Potions class, when Harry's work always seemed to be ruined if not by Draco then by another Slytherin in his place.  Odd pieces of conflicting, highly combustible ingredients found themselves sailing through the air and landing directly with a said 'plop' into his always near-perfect potions; this 'plop' was then almost immediately followed by either a terrible smell that wafted throughout the room or a rather audible explosion that overturned tables; after that, the Slytherins would snicker, the Gryffindors would groan and Professor Snape would deduct points commenting that he, Harry, had surpassed Mr. Longbottom in failed potion-brewing attempts.

            Yes, Draco and Harry's rivalry had survived five years and was onto it's sixth in length's time; it was growing more and more explosive by the day – who was to say it would last given that at any moment it would destroy them both when they finally reached the big bang, of that there could be no doubt.

            "I guess," Neville stated quietly and shoveled another spoonful of corn into his mouth.  "You know, sometimes I feel sorry for him though, Harry."

            Harry practically choked on the green beans he had been trying to swallow.  "You've got to be kidding me, Neville!  After all the horrible things he's done to you and others?  Think of how he talks about the Weasley family, or of the terrible things he's called Hermione!"

            "Well," Neville started and then sighed.  "We all do stupid, ignorant things once in a while.  And who knows – people can change, can't they" He offered.

            "Yes, I guess everyone has at least a _chance_ to change," Harry stated quietly and snuck another look at the other boy.  

Malfoy's and Harry's gazes locked and neither one said anything – although Malfoy did offer his middle finger to the boy-who-lived.

"Yep, Neville they can change alright – everyone, that is, except Malfoy," he glowered and flicked the other boy off in return too.

              * * *

            "What's his problem?!" Pansy sent a dark look towards Potter who had just finished flicking Draco off.  "He always has to start something doesn't he."

            "No, he doesn't," Draco huffed.  "I'm the one who starts things," he boasted with a smirk.  "Have to make his life miserable, don't I?"

            Blaise and Pansy laughed and shook their heads.

            "I'll never understand it," Blaise ran his fingers through his dark brown wavy hair and rolled his eyes upward.  

            "What's there to understand, Zabini?  I hate Potter and he hates me.  It's a simple understanding we both share.  The _only_ thing we both share," Draco commented and started peeling a clementine.  "Anyway, enough about Potter – what did you both get me for Christmas?"

            "Can't tell," Blaise smirked.  "Then it wouldn't be a surprise."

            "Such utter and total bullshit," Draco commented.  "Fine then I'll have to keep the ones I got for you both."

            "That is not fair, Draco Malfoy!" Pansy accused.  "You shouldn't be so damn selfish!"

            Draco reached over and plucked a grape from Pansy's plate, "I'm not selfish.  I just look out for my best interests.  And I was just kidding, alright?  How heartless do you take me to be?!" He slammed a fist into his chest, producing a rather comical hurt expression that finally exasperated his two friends into peals of laughter.  

            "Come on then," Pansy reached out and took both their hands, "let's go back to the common and open our presents.  I can't wait any longer!"

* * *

            "What the _hell_ is this?!" Draco gulped.

            Both Blaise and Pansy snorted and then erupted into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

            "Oh you're both so funny," Draco glared and went to smack them with his prank present.  "What the hell am I supposed to do with a – with –"

            "They're called a garter and fishnet stockings," Blaise coughed out in-between his laughter.  "I don't know, ask Pansy.  Maybe she thought you'd like to try them on?"  

            "Oh that's rich, very RICH!" Draco threw the articles at both of his friends who cried out in merriment and ducked.

            "It was just a joke, Dracie," Pansy simpered, her lips still smirking.  "Still where's your sense of humor?  I'd find it rather erotic to see you in a black lace garter with those stockings on."

            "Don't call me that.  And I have a very good sense of humor thank you very much," Draco sniffed.  "And by the way, you are _so_ perverse."

            "Fine then, I could always try them on for you," Pansy said seductively, blinking her eyelashes.

            Blaise whistled.

            "Ugh, no, sorry Pansy but you're NOT my type," Draco confirmed.  _'No matter what my father thinks of pure-blood marriages – there's no way with this one . . .!'_ his mind chortled.

            "And whoever said you were _my_ type, Malfoy," Pansy smacked at him playfully.  "You were my type for _one_ night and that was enough, even for me!"

            "Too much information," Blaise stated from where they sat, on the rug, in the middle of the common room.  They had abandoned the chairs and sofa to sit in a circle as friends in order to share their gifts more closely with one another.

             "Besides, all of my boyfriends who were bi were just too damn confusing," Pansy pointed out.

            "I resemble that remark!" Draco teased.  "And what does being bi-sexual have to do with it at all?"

            "Nah, don't take it personal Draco," Blaise smiled.  "Pansy is always confused and confuses that confusion with other people being confused.  Understand?"  A black lace garter belt and stockings hit him square in the face.

             "So then if you don't want to wear them, and you wouldn't want me to wear them – who would you like to see in them?  Who wearing them would turn you on," Pansy prodded, wiggling her eyebrows.

            "I don't remember wanting to share my innermost fantasies with you, Parkinson," Draco retorted, feeling angry that a huge blush was quickly spreading throughout his body.

            "Mmm," Pansy went on, "for me it'd be Dean Thomas."

            "NO way," Draco stared, mouth agape.  "A Gryffindor?!"

            "A HOT Gryffindor," Pansy corrected.

            "You're mad," Draco shrugged.  "But each unto their own."

            "Don't you mean each '_onto'_ their own," Blaise grinned.  "As for me," he volunteered.  "I would want to be on Cho Chang with her wearing those lovely little articles – so if you don't find anyone to use them, Draco I'm willing to take them over."  He picked up the garter and the stockings from where they had been left on the floor after hitting him in the face.

            Draco frowned and snatched it back from Blaise, "That's my present, Zabini.  Hands off.  And who says I don't have someone in mind.  I'm just not sharing it with you twits."

            "Right then," Pansy grinned, "onto the next present!"

* * *

            "Oy, thanks Harry!" Neville exclaimed, beaming with happiness as he held up the enchanted schedule planner.

            "And see you can even charm it so that it will flip open to that day's events by itself when you set it down," Harry grinned.

            "That's so great; hopefully it will help me keep on track this year," Neville smiled, his pudgy cheeks filling with rosy warmth.  "Okay, your turn, Harry!"

            "Neville, you really didn't have to get me anything," Harry smiled as he ripped open the wrapping paper.  "Oh, WOW!" 

            "What do you think?" Neville asked, slightly nervous.

            "It's spectacular!  Thank you so much!"  Harry reached across and hugged his classmate and friend.  "I really needed this.  'How to interpret and retrieve your magical dreams'" Harry read the title of the book he had been gifted with.

            "No problem," Neville stated kind of embarrassed with the attention.  "So I guess we can go to sleep and wake up and open the rest of them.  Looks as though Mrs. Weasley sent you another sweater," he grinned.

            "Yeah, looks like it!  Happy Christmas, Neville," Harry stated and was, for the moment, rather content with his holiday.

* * *

            Harry Potter couldn't sleep that night and it wasn't because of Neville's hearty snores.  He was just afraid of what might happen if he did.  Would Voldemort be there to intrude upon his senses, would he foresee someone else's pain and have to wake up in the morning knowing that they were dead and there was nothing he could have done for it?  Or would he have another repeat of the dream he had the other night where he saw Sirius' face, staring at him behind a dark, rippling pool of black satin.  Halloween had come and gone this past year and the veil had not lifted; there had been no intermingling of the dead with the living that had counted.  There had been no trace of the god-father he had once known.  He was torn between letting go and holding on.  He didn't know what was worse anymore.

            Each night he was losing more and more sleep; his nightmares kept getting worse and worse.  Pretty soon he was going to have to give in and go see Snape for a dreamless sleep potion.  He just was trying to ride things out – make it on his own; being brave and independent sometimes really, well, sucked.

            Turning over he sighed and scrunched his pillow up a bit more.  Maybe he could try to sleep . . . just a little bit . . . maybe he would try to clear his mind . . . using what he learned from his lessons . . . maybe that would work . . . maybe . . .

* * *

            Draco woke from sleep for a second time, cursing his hormones and rather turbulent mind.  What had gotten into him?!  He punched his pillow and tried counting quietly to ten.

            "Draco, would you please shut up?  Try visualizing the numbers would you," Blaise murmured and went back to sleep.

            Okay so maybe he hadn't been _that_ quiet about it.

            Pushing back his blankets he got out of bed and went to sit at the window-seat.  The moon was full, bright white in its color and it made the night look as luminous as the day by shining its rays against the reflections of the snow outside.

            He wondered where his father was now – was he at home for a brief rest or was he still across the seas on some rather dark and secret mission?  Draco rubbed his bare feet that were getting cold by sitting near the glass of the window on the winter's night.

            "Wherever you are father, Happy Christmas," he stated sarcastically.  His eyes skimmed the grounds, lurking outwards over endless white snow, towards the dark edge that made up the forest.  Bare, dead tree limbs intermingled and fought with one another for space against a navy blue night's sky.  Something moved along the edge of the trees.  It was a rather large, dark shape that stood out against the line of white and black of the outside environment.

            "What the hell," Draco murmured, leaning closer to the glass to try and make out who or what was moving against the downfall of snow.  It was a person – that much was certain.  He watched as the human shape fell to the ground and then gasped as a beam of light reflected off of what could not doubt be glasses lenses.  It couldn't be.  Yep, it sure was.  Harry Potter?!

            "Potter, you idiot," Draco spat.

            "Just shag him already," Blaise said in his sleep.

            "Shut up! You're an idiot too," Draco growled quietly.

            "'Kay, Mum," Blaise murmured.  "Five more minutes . . ."  He went back to being quiet with sleep.

Draco got up to put warm socks, clothes and his cloak on.  What the hell was he doing?  _'What the hell am I doing?'_ his mind questioned himself.  _'I should go get Dumbledore or Mcgonagall or better yet – Snape!'_ he smiled to himself in a wicked way and then sighed.  There was no time.

* * *

            "I can't do this any more," Harry sobbed, falling to his knees in the snow again.  He didn't know where he was going, all he knew was what he wanted to do.  Die.  He looked at his hands and saw that they were a bright red from the frozen cold around him.  He could only imagine what his bare feet looked like after trudging from the school towards the Dark Forest.  Snow was falling softly around him, sticking in white little clumps to his dampening black hair.  His tears were freezing to his cheeks and he could feel, with a relish, his body starting to go numb.

            That was what he wanted, oh yes.  He smiled and laid down into the waiting embrace of the cold snow.  He wanted to feel nothing; it was so good.  It was so good to him!  This was his release.  Somewhere inside the castle, his classmates and friends slept peacefully on in the wake of his surrender.

            "Finally," he murmured quietly as a quiet, deadly sleep started to take him.                     

As suddenly as his release had begun to take place it was taken violently away from him.  Warm arms wrapped around him, biting sharply and painfully against the cold that he was trying to become.

            "No!" Harry struggled to release himself out of the warm embrace.

            "Stop it you bloody moron!"

            Those words – that voice .  . . Harry became more alert and tried to raise his frozen eyelashes to steady his hopeless gaze, "Malfoy?"  His own voice sounded so weak, so tired, - so cold.

            "That's right, Potter," Malfoy stated snottily.  "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to go _back_ inside to where it's warm."  And with that he hoisted Harry up into his arms as best he could and started his way back, staggering as he went against the burden.

            "Put . . . me . . . down, you ferret" Potter managed to choke out.

            "No, sorry, can't do that.  If I did then it would be _me_ and not you who was to blame.  And I do _not_ feel like spending the best days of my youthful life in an Akaban prison cell," Draco rambled on as he worked his way slowly back to the school.  "Jesus Potter, you weigh too much!"

            "Then put me down," Harry moaned.  "Please."

            Draco paused for a moment, frowning at the desperation in Harry's voice.  It was only for a second that he didn't move, standing, shivering himself in the cold outdoor snow before he made his way the last final steps to enter back into the warm, candle-lit hallways of the school.  Inside he did finally set his rival down.

            He looked at Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, who all of a sudden was a boy who wished he could have died, and sighed.  "Look at you – out in the snow, in your pajamas, with no shoes or cloak on.  What were you trying to do?"

            "Freeze to death," Harry stated quietly, somberly.  

            "Bad night?" Malfoy quirked an eyebrow.

            "You don't know the least of it," Harry growled.

            "God Potter, you were that close," Draco pinched his fingers together, "from getting frostbite."

            "Well I really wouldn't have cared being _dead_ and all," Harry pointed out.

            "Your logic scares me," Draco rolled his eyes and reached out towards Harry's shaking hands.

            Harry jerked back from Malfoy's touch, not knowing what to do.

            "Your hands," Malfoy nodded.  "I was just going to try and warm up your hands."

            "Oh," Harry stated and sniffled a bit.  "I think I rather like being cold."

            "Well I think it's rather pointless," Malfoy countered reaching again for the other boy.

            "Well I think you'd better mind your own business," Harry glared and dodged out of his reach again, nearly toppling over in his weakened stated from where he sat on the ground.

            "You _are_ my business, Potter," Malfoy stated and clamped his mouth shut.

            "No, I'm not," Harry stated.

            Draco thought a moment.  Well – he could push the matter or he could leave it be.  "_Yes_, you are.  Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way."  Push, yep that was what he opted for.  "Now give me your damn hands," he reached out quickly but not quickly enough.  One solid, cold foot of Harry's hit him straight in the gut.

            Draco groaned and tried to remind himself that he was trying to _save_ Potter's life, not end it.  "That's it," he growled.  "That's bloody it!"

            Harry finally smiled a bit, pleased with himself for what he had done.  No doubt Malfoy would now become rather upset and give up on his sudden, charitable moment.

            Malfoy growled, reached over and picked up Harry throwing him over his shoulder.

            Okay, maybe Malfoy _wouldn't_ give up.

            "What are you doing?!" Harry yelped.  He was surprised that the other boy could bear his weight as well as he could.  They were close to the same height – though Draco was a bit taller; not to mention Harry had always been rather lean for most of his life.

            "We're doing it the hard way, Potter."

            "I hate you!" Harry hollered, his limbs still too weak to really give a good fight.

            "Well then nothing has changed," Draco chuckled.

* * *

            "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!  YOU ARE AN INSUFFERABLE GIT WITHOUT ANY OUNCE OF SYMPATHY!"

            A bright light filled the dormitory.

            Blaise sat bolt upright in his bed, heart beating rapidly from the fright.

            "What's your point, Potter?" 

            "Who the hell turned on the light!" Blaise roared.  He heard Draco's voice and looked over only to do a double-take.

            "I HAVE NO BLOODY POINT!" Harry Potter yelled at Draco Malfoy from where he sat on the Slytherin's bed.

            "Good morning, sunshine," Draco smiled at Blaise noting his wakefulness.

            "No, there's no way I'm awake.  You know why?" Blaise mumbled with sleepiness and shock.  "Because you have Harry Potter here in your bed in the our Slytherin dorm-room and you're smiling.  Right this is a nightmare."

            "You can say that again," Harry stated quietly, arms folded and then sneezed loudly.

            "Oh Merlin I am awake aren't I," Blaise stated, looking upward towards the ceiling.  "So what – are you going to murder him or something?"

            "Murder me?!" Harry hollered.  "Like he possibly could," he scoffed.

            "I just saved his life!  Not that he's bloody thankful or anything!" Draco pouted.

            "I didn't ask for your help, _Malfoy_," Harry spat.  "I was perfectly content to be on my own tonight."

            Silence met the room only to be interrupted a moment later when Harry sneezed again.

            "You're getting sick and it's all because you're just too damn stubborn to borrow the warm, dry pajamas I'm offering you in trade for your wet ones," Malfoy glared.

            Blaise watched both boys banter.

            "I don't want anything of _yours_," Harry muttered and coughed.  "It's so hot in here."

            "You're starting to defrost," Malfoy glared.  "Too bad your brain is still frozen."

            Blaise blinked and rubbed his eyes just for the heck of it.

            Harry threw a pillow and hit Malfoy in the face, ruffling his hair.

            "I'm not going to play nice anymore, Potter!" he threatened.  "No one, absolutely no one messes with my hair," he pointed at the strands that were now out of place.

            Draco reached out and grabbed hold of Harry's pajama bottoms and tugged.  They slid down and around Harry's thighs and off his legs before he could even comprehend what had happened.

            "What the HELL are you doing!  Give me back my bottoms!" Harry started crawling forward, clad only in his damp boxers and his pajama top, across the bed to snatch them back and then watched in horror as Malfoy threw them over his shoulder and into the fireplace behind him.  His pants had gone up in smoke.

            "You're wet.  You're making my bed wet.  I hate wet, Potter." Malfoy stated rather finely.  "You're freezing there like an idiot and I can tell you're going to go into a fever any moment now so give me the damn top as well."

            Harry looked, jaw agape from his wet, cold top that he was still clad in to Malfoy's outstretched hand.  It was all so surreal!  Maybe this was another one of his crazy dreams.  Yes, after this one he'd definitely give in and go to Snape for that potion.  This was the worst nightmare of them all.

            "Harry," Blaise stated gently as though trying to calm a rather timid and confused being, "you might want to give Draco the top."

            Harry shook his head and then held up his middle finger to flick his rival off.

            "Oh dear," Blaise sighed and flopped back down into his bed, pulling the covers up and over his head.  He tried to ignore the sounds of the two boys fighting over one said wet top and when that didn't work he slammed his feather pillow over his head.

            All was quiet.  He could hear his own breathing, could see nothing but darkness and wondered – was anyone left alive out there?  For all he knew he was trying to go back to sleep with two corpses in the room.  He'd bet that Dumbledore wouldn't really appreciate that overly much.

            Lifting the pillow gently from his head, Blaise peeped out, craning his ear outwards from his safe haven.

            Silence.

            "Oh Merlin, you killed him didn't you!  Are we going to have to hide the body?" Blaise threw back his covers and sat up glaring at Malfoy who – was – laying in bed holding a sleeping, only slightly feverish if not mainly exhausted Harry Potter.  

            Draco glared silently back at his friend.

            "What happened here tonight?" Blaise scratched his head and looked at the scene before him.  "Is this the 'Christmas-yet-to-come' dream?!  What the hell happened?!" he was at his wits end, tired – confused – amused.

            "Potter wanted to freeze to death in the snow," Draco shrugged, still holding the other boy.

            "Okay that makes sense," Blaise nodded after a moment, after all it was common knowledge that Potter had to carry the world on his shoulders.  "But what _doesn't _make sense is why _you_ of all people went out there to save him.  Why _you_ brought him back here of all places and are now keeping him in your bed."

            Draco sighed, "Hell if I know.  I just thought it'd be a good idea if I warmed him up, that it'd be too late for him after taking the time to find and alert a teacher and a bad idea for him to die.  It just seemed to dawn on me that things might be a little boring without the boy-wonder around."

            Blaise raised an eyebrow.

            "Oh for Merlin's sake," Draco glowered.  "There is no sense to this!  It.  Just.  Happened.  Alright?"

            Blaise held up a hand in protest, "It's alright.  No need to explain.  Really.  I'll just deal with this surreal situation as best I can."

            "Oh how noble of you," Draco rolled his eyes and leaned back further into his pillows.  He put his hand up to Harry's forehead, carefully avoiding the scar that was his legacy.  He didn't feel he had the right to touch it for some reason.  Harry's forehead was hot but not terribly so.  One good night's sleep in a warm bed and he was sure to come out rather alright if not with the reminants of a cold.

            Blaise turned off the light and lay back down.  "So, are you going to give him back in the morning?"

            Silence initially greeted his question.

            "Draco?" Blaise queried into what was left of the nighttime.

            "We'll see.  I haven't decided on how I'm going to let this change things, yet," Draco murmured sleepily and then drifted off into his own oblivion.

            Blaise smiled to himself already having an idea of what had and would change. 

* * *

            Draco woke up startled, to find the bed void and empty of the boy-who-was-trying-to-die-in-the-snow last night.

            "Don't worry, he's probably regained his senses and headed back to his dormitory before anyone could question his absence," Blaise stated from where he lay sprawled in his own sleeping space.

            "I guess we all have those moments," Draco said quietly.  Oh he had had his own moments – timeframes where he was so weak and weary of hurting he had thought about ending it all.  But he never really had.  He had always gone to Pansy or to Blaise even to Snape once and had managed to walk away from the edge before crashing over into the abyss.  "Well, thank Merlin he's gone, anyway," Draco shrugged.

            "Excuse me?" Blaise propped himself up on one elbow from where he was still waking up in bed.  "You didn't sound as though you were looking forward to having your slumber party end last night."

            "Well that was last night!  It's over and done with," he stated wearily.  "I just could not _sleep_ with bloody Harry Potter in my bed.  I'm exhausted."

            "Turned you on did it?" Blaise snickered.

            Draco glared, "He was so damn cold at first and then when he got hot it was unbearable.  He wouldn't stop moving around either."

            Blaise roared with laughter.

            Draco's face grew red with embarrassment, "It's NOT like that!  You're screwing with my words!  Potter was sick!  Oh god, I'm just going to shut the fuck up now, aren't I."

            "Come on Draco," Blaise laughed and sat up, swinging his legs over the bed.  "Let's start another day; we'll open some presents and then see how your Mr. Potter is doing, shall we?"  
            "He's not _my_ Mr. Potter," Draco spat.

            "Yes he is."

            "Blaise –"

            "Oh come on you just hate to love him," Blaise spoke up.  "Besides, you need your jammies back."

            "No, I just love to hate him," Draco corrected.  "And damnit, you're right.  They're my favorite pair."

* * *

            Harry was sitting up in his bed, thinking about some things and still wearing Draco's pajamas when Neville began to stir from his warm, sleepy cocoon next to him.

            "Morning, Harry!" Neville chirped happily, peeping up over his blanket.

            "Good morning, Neville," Harry smiled.

            "Sleep well?" he asked.

            Harry paused for a moment, not knowing how to answer that.  "Yeah, everything is fine now I guess."

            "Great!  I say we dive into presents and then go have some breakfast," Neville jumped out of bed.

            Harry watched with amusement as the chubby boy ran out of the room and down the stairs.  What he wouldn't give to be that thrilled to be starting another day.

            "I'm not supposed to be here," he pointed out loud to himself.  "It was all supposed to have ended last night," he said quietly to the empty room.  "But here I am," he shrugged.  "And it's all Malfoy's fault."  Closing his eyes, he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.  "And now I owe Malfoy," he admitted.

            "Coming Harry?" Neville's voice hollered from downstairs.

            "Yeah!" Harry replied, standing up, trying to get ready to survive yet another day.  

* * *

            Harry sat at the breakfast table along with the other students, keeping his head down and a fake smile firmly in place.  He hated others around him to worry; his wearing a frown would definitely cause a stir.  He hated stirs anymore.  Yes, he most certainly did.

            But, since last night he had come to a conclusion.  There was a debt to be repaid – and the sooner the better.  He was going to do it.  Oh yes, he most certainly was.  Right.  Any moment now.

            Harry dipped his spoon down into his cinnamon swirled oatmeal and concentrated on trying to find a bit of that bravery that every Gryffindor was endowed with.  He continued to swirl his oatmeal with the spoon in his right hand while his left hand reached into the pocket of his cloak; his fingers closed softly around a small scrap of parchment.  He let his mind wander as his fingers caressed the smooth, cool paper thoughtfully.

            "Everything okay, Harry?" Neville asked in between chewing on a banana.

            "Actually," Harry stated quietly and withdrew his hand from his pocket along with the paper in his fingers.  "Can you pass this down to Malfoy."

            Neville choked on the banana.  "I'm sorry?  What?!"

            "The note Neville," Harry stated, not blinking.  "Can you pass it down to Malfoy, please."

            "Okay," Neville stated through wide eyes, staring at Harry as though he had suddenly broken out in fluent parsletongue.  

            There was no turning back.  Harry watched, his right hand still swirling his breakfast with the spoon, as Neville passed it (whispering its destination) to Zachary Morton of Hufflepuff who then in turn passed it onto Mable Learner of the same house who was sitting next to Blaise who was next to Malfoy who finally, in turn received the note.

            Everyone in the table was rather quiet during the whole process, looking at Harry Potter and then at Draco Malfoy in confusion but never once did anyone intrude enough to vocally question what was going on.  To do so would have been rather, well, dangerous no doubt.

            Harry watched quietly, his heart silently thundering in his chest, as Malfoy unfolded the note.  

            Draco was only slightly shocked at having Potter send him a message at breakfast.  I mean, he was getting used to rather odd things – after all wasn't it only last night he had had the-boy-who-had-lived sweating in his bed.  Okay, clarification – sweating from a fever – in his bed.  Small difference.  Right.

            Draco unfolded the note, ignoring Blaise to his right who was trying to hold back peals of amusement and Pansy to his left whose mouth was hanging agape.  His eyes skimmed over the words thoughtfully . . . 

Malfoy,

First off – thank you (I guess) for what you did last night.

Secondly – there are further things that need to be said, discussed and answered to.

Meet me in the courtyard after breakfast.

Potter.

Simple and to the point.  Sort-of.  Draco looked up, his eyes catching a moment with Potter's and as he nodded his head to acknowledge his agreement he smirked to see the other dark haired boy let out a long breath of what was no doubt relief.  So Harry Potter had been holding his breath for him, hmm?  That was good.  Very good.

* * *

            Harry sat on a cold, stone bench in the middle of the quiet, snow-covered courtyard.  He felt his unruly hair ruffle with a cold sweep of the wind and watched as his cloak billowed out around him from where he sat.  He used his shoe to nudge at a rock that was sitting by itself amidst the pearly white frost on the ground.  He didn't look up immediately when someone sat next to him, producing an added warmth against the cold, winter's afternoon.

            "You're welcome, Potter."

            Harry nodded his head and looked up and out at the distance; his eyes took in the trees, the sky, the castle – everything except the boy who sat next to him.

            "Why did you do it?" Harry asked quietly.

            Draco sighed and sat for a moment, listening to the quiet sounds of a winter's day.  Christmas day.  What could he say?  He said nothing, simply shaking his head and shrugging.

            Harry sat close enough to the other boy to know what movements he had made.  His heart didn't sink at the fact that there was no reason really for what had transpired between the two of them – it just had.  

            "Why did _you_ do it?" Draco asked just as quietly.

            It was Harry's turn to sigh.  His glove covered hands plucked at a loose thread on his cloak.  "I was tired and tired of things."  He was greeted with no response to his words.  "I guess that doesn't make any sense to you does it-" he started.

"No!" Draco interrupted.  "I mean, well – it does make sense," Draco stated.  "Sadly enough.  

            Harry snorted with a small amount of amusement.

            "So is there truly more that needs to be said?" Draco questioned, turning his head to look at the other boy with a single, regal raised eyebrow.

            "Oh there are always things to be said," Harry smiled to himself – it were as though he knew something that no one else knew.  "But I guess for now we can move onto what needs to be discussed and answered to."

            "And that would be?" Draco asked folding his arms.

            "I owe you a debt."

            "Yes you do."

            There it was.  It was acknowledged.  Both boys sat there quietly for a moment, letting those words sink in around them.  One was rather thrilled with the prospect, the other one rather skeptical.  As to who was what – well . . . .

            "So what do you want?" Harry asked, swallowing.

            Draco smirked and threw back his head laughing.

            "What's so damn funny?!  I don't find this funny!  In fact I find it mildly disagreeable," Harry muttered.

            "Sure you do," Draco snorted.  "Alright – what do I want . . . I want the World, Potter."

            "Oh okay," Harry blinked.  "And would you like that in paper or plastic?"

            "WHAT?!" Draco glared.

            "Just kidding," Harry grinned.  "No, Malfoy – what do you want for _me_ in return for – in return for –"

            "Can't you just say it already?!  Is it that bloody hard to admit that I saved your life?" Draco accused standing up from the bench, his arms still folded, his face rather pink with annoyance.

            "Quite frankly, yes," Harry admitted sheepishly.  He grew quiet and then finally stood up himself, stalking towards Malfoy, "Would you just answer the question?!  What – do – you – want – from – me?!"

            They stood nose to nose, eyes holding eyes, as the wind swept the still snow from tree limbs around them, moving it to fall in soft folds over their rigid forms.

            "Be my friend for a day," Malfoy blurted out.

            "What?" Harry asked taken aback.

            "Merlin," Malfoy swore.  "What I mean, Potter – is I'd like you around for a day.  

            "WHAT?!" Harry asked still confused at his arch rival wanting him to be around in what he assumed was to be a living condition.

            "Christ!" Malfoy roared and ran a hand through his sleek hair.  "Just – you and me – one day – no Gryffindorks, no Ravenclaws, now Huffies . . . just you and me Potter.  One day from start to finish."

            "But . . ." Harry paused a moment, his mouth opening and closing.  "WHY?!"

            Malfoy raised his head up high, his nose pointing snobbishly upward, "Because _you_ owe _me_.  And more to the point – because _I_ said so."  And with what was a rather regal spin on the heel to turn to go back inside, the Slytherin boy rather effectively dismissed one said Harry Potter for the day.

* * *

Harry Potter really _was_ a lot of things – a lot of things except a morning person.  But there he was, at 9:00 AM, in front of the Slytherin Dormitory's portrait hole, full dressed, slightly awake and holding a bundle delicately to his chest.

            "_Hello,"_ Harry hissed in parseltongue to the snake that ruled the entrance and portrait.

            _"Good morning, snake-speaker,"_ he hissed back.

            "_Please tell Draco Malfoy that Harry Potter is here to see him."  _Harry stood waiting for a response.  Unlike what others may have assumed in his second year, he was rather uncomfortable talking in parseltongue.  It made him feel as though he were just a little to close to Voldemort when he did so.

            _"One moment, little one,"_ the snake replied and then slithered its way past the frame that should have kept his painted form captive but didn't.  If anyone was being held captive it was Harry – and for what was hopefully only a day.

* * *

            _"Wake up, Slytherin masters.  There is a visitor by the name of Potter downstairs!"_

            Draco let his heavy, sleep-induced eyes slowly open of their own accord.  He smiled and then took his time to make a rather languid stretch.  Potter was downstairs.  Potter was downstairs and waiting for him.  What a wonderful morning!

            "What did that damn snake say?" Blaise murmured groggily.

            "He said that Potter was waiting downstairs," Draco stated smugly, a grin residing on his face with what might have been permanency.

            Blaise raised himself up on one elbow and yawned.  "Well don't look at me.  He's your boyfriend, you go get him."

            Draco's grin faltered and he shot up in bed outraged, "HE IS NOT, I REPEAT, NOT MY BOYFRIEND, Zabini!!!!"

                        "Then, okay sleeping beauty, what is he?" Blaise dared.

                        "Mine for the day," Draco pointed out.

                        Blaise paused.  "Ah – yeah."  He studied Draco a bit, watching his best friend fiddle with the buttons on his pajama top, noting the slight hint of pink that was no doubt a blush spreading throughout his pale features.  My oh my – what Draco didn't know would hurt him.  "Let's see here . . ." he started.

            Draco groaned and pushed back his covers getting up.

            "You saved his life," Blaise began, "you took him to bed and now you're going to spend a whole day, without killing him hopefully, together?  If that's not love then I don't know what is."

            Draco crouched down to search for his slippers.  When Blaise said the "L" word he hit his head on the top of the bed frame.  "Damnit!" he roared.  "You are in so much trouble."

            "Ah – yeah," Blaise yawned.  "Okay.  Love you too, snookums."

            Draco grabbed his robe and started towards the door, turning slightly to give the infamous, cold Malfoy look.  "I'll deal with you later."

            "Promise?" Blaise batted his eyelashes and made kissing noises only to be met with the resounded slam of a door.

* * *

            Harry stood, and stood and then stood some more waiting for Draco Malfoy to get his sorry ass downstairs.  Finally, after about five full minutes he sat down against the wall for comfort's sake.  He was only slightly upset and only a lot riled – this was another one of Malfoy's damn desires to have the upper hand.  Well, then, fine.  What could Harry do about it anyway?  He owed Malfoy – so if Malfoy said 'sit, stay and rollover' Harry would have had to comply.  Of course he could comply while glaring all the while.

            "Why does my life have to be such utter and total shit sometimes?!" Harry sighed out loud.

            "I don't know Potter," Malfoy was suddenly standing before him, dressed in his pajamas, at the front entrance to the Slytherin dorms.  "Maybe because it's null and void of my very special company?"

            "No that's one of my better days, Malfoy," Harry rolled his eyes and stood up.  "You're not even dressed yet?"

            "Well I had thought I would lay in bed all day and let you feed me grapes, Potter," he drawled quirking an eyebrow.

            Harry's mouth opened and closed, "You – What? – Are you mad?!"  Suddenly the front of his shirt was clenched in a fist and he was dragged through the portrait hole.

            "Only slightly," Draco admitted.  

            "Where are you taking me?" Harry gulped, his feet digging into the stone floor, slowing down the other boy who was trying to drag him along.

            "Upstairs to my room," Draco tugged again and growled when he was met with resistance.  "Potter – would you PLEASE stop being such a stubborn ass."

            Harry moved forward, throwing the other boy off balance by the sudden change in inertia, "I.  Am.  Not.  An.  Ass."

            "Yes.  You.  Are." Draco accused.

            "I am _not_ going up to your room."

            "Potter?"

            "What."

            "What happened the last time we had this discussion?  'The easy way or the hard way.'  Ring a bell?"

            " . . ."

             Draco stomped up the stairs, taking them two at a time (yet elegantly enough) and was pleased to hear his own footsteps echoed by his companion following close behind him.

            He pushed his way through the door, sending it crashing against the wall pleasantly enough.  "Blaise!  Company!"

            Blaise rolled over and looked at their guest, "Hey, Potter."  

            "Hello, Zabini," Harry stated awkwardly.  He stood at the entryway to the bedroom area, not knowing where to go, what to do or what to say.  He needed time to adjust.  He needed to think things through.

            Draco grabbed him by his shirt again and dragged him over to sit on the bed.

            Obviously, Harry was going to need a new shirt by the end of the day.

            "Geez, Draco!" Blaise scoffed.

            "What?!" Draco spun around on his heel, arms folded.  "He's being an idiot."

            "Excuse me –" Harry glared.

            "He's just adjusting to _your_ rude self," Zabini furthered, fluffing his pillows up against the headboard to sit up.

            "Hello!?" Harry tried again.

            "He needs to adjust his _brain_ if you ask –" Draco started again. 

            "I AM _IN_ THE ROOM!  I _DO_ EXIST!  AND I _AM_ LISTENING TO EVERYTHING YOU SAY!  Potter hollered.

            Both boys stopped to look at him, blinking.

            "So," Blaise clapped his hands together, "what's on the agenda for today?"

            "Oh no," Draco stated quietly.  "You are _not_ coming with us."  He rummaged through his closet to try and find a rather suitable outfit for the day.

            "If you don't let me come, too I'll tell your Daddy that you saved the-boy-who-lived from certain death," Blaise threatened, grinning like a mad man on the edge.

            Harry's eyes grew wide as he sat on Draco's bed looking from one boy to the next, clutching the bundle he arrived with as though holding on for dear life.  He watched the stare-down and gulped.  Blaise took this rather humorously – he could tell but when he tried to read Draco's feelings on the moment, he was disappointed in himself that he couldn't!  All he ever really saw or understood from the other boy, he realized, was anger, teasing, taunting, hexes, fights and snobbish moments.  Was there anything else beyond that?

            "Oh fine," Draco smiled.  It was like night and day.  If Harry didn't know better it was the first sincere smile he had ever seen grace Draco Malfoy's face – too bad it wasn't meant for him.  Harry jumped with that thought.

            "Consider me your chaperone," Blaise nodded his head imperiously.

            "If I want to feel Potter up, I'll do it – chaperone or not!" Draco growled quietly to himself.

            "I'm sorry – what was that?" Harry squeaked.

            "Yes, could you repeat that, Draco?" Blaise snickered.

            "I said if I want to beat Potter up, I'll do it – chaperone or not," Draco stated quickly.  "Now come on, time's wasting," he threw a set of clothing at his friend who was still in bed.  

            Draco turned to look at Harry, "I want to make the most of the day.  Say what's in that package, Potter?" 

            Harry looked down at the bundle he had arrived with and let a small smile phase his lips, "Your jammies."

            "Ah," Draco stated.

            Harry beamed at what he saw – his rival covered in a blush.  Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad day after all.

* * * 

TO BE CONTINUED.


	2. Frozen II

FROZEN 

**by WretchedWriter (formerly known as WretchedScar)**

**© December 25, 2003, continued April 2004 onward.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of its entities belong to J.K. Rowling.  No infringement intended.**

**HP/DM; Rated R**

**_Hey all I know it has been FOREVER and a day since I updated – I'll try and get better about that.  I hope everyone is doing well and thanks for the reviews – greatly appreciated.  Here's a small bit to enjoy.  And as always the steamy stuff is located (not here at FF.Net – Merlin forbid) but at my personal site "Lifetime of Darkness"._**

****

**_Enjoy!_**

* * * 

            "First things first," Draco stated rather calmly as the three of them walked towards the outer area of Hogsmeade.  It was a free weekend and they were going to make the most of it.  "We're going to Bart Gustinson's for the goods."

            "What goods," Harry questioned, feeling a bit nervous.  He wasn't sure what they were doing, where they were going or why.  Frankly he didn't know anything and it was not sitting well with him.

            "The goods," Blaise smirked, reaffirming what he already didn't know.

            "Right that helps," Harry muttered, tightening his scarf around his neck to keep what little warmth he had against the winter locked inside his cloak.

            "Do you think we should tell him now?" Blaise raised his eyebrows towards

Draco as they walked quickly along, passing various shops, moving down quiet side streets and pass fewer and fewer people.  "Or wait and surprise him with it later?"

            "I think it's more fun to leave him in the dark."  They stopped abruptly, outside of a run-down old store made of weathered, gray wood.  Draco moved an inch closer to where Harry stood, his eyes steadily looking into the other boy's, "Are you scared of the dark, Potter?" 

            Harry raised his chin, "No."

            Draco looked at Potter quietly for a moment, sizing him up.  He ignored Blaise shifting from foot to foot trying to dance off the cold.  "Yeah right," he stated quietly, pushing past the other boy and leading the way inside of the small building.

            "Stay here and babysit boy-wonder; I'll find Gustison," Blaise offered, moving towards the rear of the shop and out of sight.  

            Draco snorted and stood, arms folded watching Harry.

            Harry hated being under such close observation and especially by Draco Malfoy.  He tried to appear calm, non-phased and moved about the store, looking in the dusty glass covered display cases.  After regarding a few items, he started to gather where he was.  A bit of anger boiled up in his blood and he turned around to regard his nemesis, "We shouldn't be here."

            "And why not," Draco's lip curled up in a sneer.  "Too good for you?"

            "It's full of dark articles, if I was seen in here . . ." Harry started to ramble off what he had heard in his mind time and time again.  

"Oh that's right, have to keep up the pretense that you're the wizarding world's savior – wouldn't be caught dead with the son of a deatheater and you most certainly wouldn't give into the temptation of being seduced by the dark arts." Draco said fiercely.  

            "You don't understand," Harry stated seriously, his brow knitted together in frustration.  

"So much better than the rest of us, Potter.  That's how it is.  Never curious as to how we live or why we live the way we do!"  Draco continued onward, moving forward – advancing on the other boy.  "Sometimes some of us," he leaned in closer, his chest touching Harry's, his face so close his breath seemed to mingle with the other boy's, "-sometimes some of us just don't have a choice in the matter.  Ever think of that?"

Harry didn't move, he could only breath – and very, very quietly.  "And what's my choice then, Malfoy?  Answer me that."

Draco was a bit surprised at Harry's calm response.

"What choices as the '_boy who lived'_," Harry sneered the title, "am I given?  I can't indulge in my curiosities – dark magic or otherwise – I can't been seen with questionable characters, I have to always be prepared to either fight for my life or die trying.  Do you think this is all a great big adventure for me?  That I enjoy who I am?  I _hate_ myself, Malfoy.  Sometimes I _know_ it'd just be easier to die.  Sometimes that's the only choice I'm left with that makes any sense at all."

Draco closed his eyes and put a little distance between him and Harry after a bit of silence had procured between them.  He opened his eyes to look at the other boy.  

Potter's face had fallen, he looked defeated – much like he had the other night in the snow, crumbled up amidst its freezing embrace.  It was an awkward moment for two sworn enemies.

"Maybe one day . . ." Draco started, not knowing where he was heading.

"Maybe one day," Potter started interupting, not looking at the other boy, "someone will think to ask me what I want and I truly will have it – no consequences attached."

"Hey guys!" Blaise came from toward the back, interrupting the terse moment.  He held in his arms a rather large wooden crate that he juggled to balance.  "Got the goods – ready to head back?"

He looked at Malfoy who stood, his arms crossed looking rather 'thrown off' and then at Potter who looked as though he had just admitted to having lost a million points for gryffindor and knew – _knew _– he had missed something.

The silence continued.

"Not to be pushy," Blaise sighed, "but this _is_ getting rather heavy what with me standing here holding it all by my lonesome self."

"Right," Draco started, taking out his wand.  He did a shrinking spell and watched as Blaise pocketed 'the goods.'  Without even another glance at either of his friends he turned to leave.  "Let's go."

* * *

To be continued . . .


End file.
